Month: May 2023

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on
The soot of our past contaminates everything it touches.”
                    –Kenneth Pratt  (Return to Willow Falls)

       “But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as by the Spirit of the Lord.”
                    –2 Corinthians 3:18 (NKJV)
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Life is Living!  Have you got that through your noggin yet?  Living for Christ is when everything we do is done for His glory, and when that is the case we live life abundantly.  If you are living your life for Jesus, how do people then see you?  My Sunday School teacher presented a great class last Sunday on 2 Corinthians, chapter 3.  I would encourage you to read the complete chapter to get the thoughts in context, but I want to zoom in on a couple of verses this morning.

          “[No] you yourselves are our letter of recommendation (our credentials), written in your hearts, to be known (perceived, recognized) and read by everybody.  You show and make obvious that you are a letter from Christ delivered by us, not written with ink but with [the] Spirit of [the] living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.”
                    –2 Corinthians 3:2-3 (Amplified)
 
How do you read me?  How do others read you?  We are letters to be read by those who are in the church and those who are in the world.  This letter, as the Amplified states, are your credentials.  It states you are who you say you are.  In my files I have several credentials stating something about who I am.  Some of them are from the military, others are in the realm of education.  There is one–a birth certificate–that states when I was born, where I was born, who my parents were, and my gender.
       For a minute I want you to think of a letter and its components.  There is a greeting, a salutation, and that begins to set the tone of the letter.  Paul in this letter to the Corinthians states that he is an apostle in his greeting then adds, “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ” (1:2, NKJV).  Then you go into the content, the body of the letter.
       First of all watch your grammar.  A comma out of place, the use of a wrong word can totally change the meaning of the letter.  Take a look at yourself.  How are you presenting yourself to the world?  Is there something out of place that gives those who see you a different perspective from what you meant?  I know first impressions can often be wrong, but they are important.  They leave an impression, note the term, and that might be the only one they receive from you.  I recall during inspections when I was in the military that if a person’s boots were not shined to the desired perfection that consequences would follow.  Boots not shined, the rest of you would also show defects, and that was the first place the sergeant would look.
       Second, we must be sure our spelling is correct.  If not, there might be the wrong message given.  Dot your “I’s”, cross your “Ts”, in other words do things right, remember, you are doing it for the Lord.  Someone said, “The most valuable gift you can give another is a good example.”  Annie and I have uncovered a few scams that have come our way simply because words were misspelled–not very professional.  The seemingly small things count, they are important!
 
               For want of a nail, the shoe was lost.
               For want of a shoe, the horse was lost.
               For want of a horse, the rider was lost.
               For want of a rider, the battle was lost.
               For want of a battle, the kingdom was lost.
               And all for want of a nail!
 
More and more it seems like the little things are not important.  That is a dangerous misconception for people are reading you.  A curse word slips from your mouth and that person begins to think…hmm, is that Christlike?
       Third, don’t scribble!  Work on your penmanship!  Be clear, not only in your message (of your life) but also in the clarity of it.  Very few schools now teach penmanship, cursive is not taught, how then can a person’s work then be legible?  Work on the actual writing of your letter.  That is something you do and it must be practiced.  Can people read my life?  Let the Holy Spirit begin His work by writing on your heart.  He is always clear in what He says; He is always legible in what He writes.  
       You are an epistle!  A living letter!  Your life will be read and made known by all men.  The term, “known” means “manifestly declared.”  You, in your everyday walk, your words and actions, even your thoughts and attitudes are a letter to be read by those around you.  Let them be so that those who are reading you will see the message of Jesus Christ.

 

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on
Silverton!  A town bursting with gold fever, as well as any vice a person could think of.  One of Miles’ friends had been beaten up by a couple of deputies.  He had reservations regarding Marshal Johnson, but not enough proof to take any action yet.  Join us as we continue reading about the life of Miles Forrest in those thrilling days of yesteryear.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
       I had just given the waitress my order and taken my first sip of coffee when the deputy came in.  For sure, I knew I was purposely being followed.  I didn’t give the satisfaction of acknowledging him, but finished my coffee then asked for some more while I waited for my supper.
       The porterhouse steak was excellent, plus the potatoes and cabbage filled me up right nicely.  I was cutting a piece of raisin pie when another deputy came in to sit next to the first one.  I watched them chat, their eyes once in a while moving my direction.  The pie was good, and I had one more cup of coffee before going on my way.  Darkness had descended on the town, and I wanted to walk the streets to get a feel for the atmosphere.
       I awoke the next morning.  I was tired, due partly to the altitude and my walk last night.  I moved up, in, and through almost every saloon on Blair Street and a few others besides.  Boisterous, loud, each oozing with debauchery and vileness causing my stomach to sicken as I checked them out.  One thing for sure, Johnson seemed to have control of that element.  If a fight broke out, it didn’t take long for a deputy to arrive on the scene.  As a Deputy U.S. Marshal I didn’t have to face this element very often.  It was the domain of the sheriff or marshal.  And somewhere during the stroll I lost track of the man assigned to follow me.  
       After breakfast my plan was to go up to some of the large mines, see Brewlinski, Morgan, and Hoskins.  Then I’d ride out to some of the smaller camps, nose around a bit, the head back to Silverton.  I was greeted by Giles when I picked up Hawk.  He made the morning pleasantries and after I mounted he moved in closer.  “I’d walk in the street rather than the boardwalk,” he warned, then quickly moved away, slapping Hawk on the hindquarter.
       I pondered what Giles told me as I rode the short distance.  I noticed a fence with a gate in front of the mine, that was new, and unusual.  Approaching the gate two armed guards came out to stop me, one holding a Winchester, the other a double barrel.  
       “We don’t tolerate no strangers here,” barked the guard with the shotgun.  “Be on your way,” he ordered, waving the shotgun around.
       Now I don’t understand the weaving and waving of the barrel.  I just level mine, cocked it, and pointed it at the guard.  “Seems we have ourselves a standoff.  All I want to do is see Jakub Brewlinski.”
       The guard seemed in a quandary as to what to do.  He didn’t want to take his eyes off of me, but finally turned to the other guard.  “Go get the Supe.  Who shall I say wants him?”
       “Tell him Miles Forrest brings him greetin’s.”
       I was hoping that he’d get here soon, as my arm was getting tired holding the Greener out.  The guard at least had two hands on his shotgun.  “You mind if I dismount?  I’ll put away the Greener, and I’d appreciate it if you’d lower yours.”
       Not waiting for an answer I dismounted, letting the Greener drop to my side.  “You got a name?”
       “What’s it to yuh?” he said with a snarl.  
       I don’t know why he was acting the way he was.  I was a peaceable man, but he seemed to act like he’d slept in a mattress full of bedbugs and was just itching to do something.  “Always like to know the name of a person I might have to put in the graveyard.”
       That caused him to bristle up some.  But I decided to give him a smile.  It was at least fifteen minutes before the other guard came back with Brewlinski grumbling at him.  He looked and saw me.  “Baskins!  Put away that shotgun!  That’s Miles Forrest, a U.S. Marshal.”
       Lowering his weapon, he remarked.  “He didn’t tell me he was a U.S. Marshal.”
       Walking through the gate I said, “You didn’t ask, and it’s Deputy U.S. Marshal.”  I then followed Brewlinski up to his office.
       Entering his tiny office, he pointed to the stove.  “Coffee’s still hot if you want some.  Grab a cup, then you can tell me why you’ve come for a visit.”
       We talked a little about Charlie and Marta, the thinking and actions of the miners since the strike had ended.  Then I asked, “Why the gate and the guards?”
       “To keep Johnson and his hooligans out.”  He then told me of Johnson’s attempt to get money for protection.   “The owners, and I might add, I agree with them, told him to go soak his head.  We don’t need protection from the likes of him,” he paused once, to get up and fill his cup.  “He tried to stop a shipment once.  We had it loaded in wagons headed down to the depot when his men stopped us in the middle of Greene Street.  Our guards simply leveled their weapons at the marshal and his crew and they let us pass on by.”
       I told him about what happened to Morgan Appleby.  We were both shaking our heads.  Jakub said, “I can understand him wanting to bully the local merchants, but to take on Wells Fargo, or the Lucky Dollar MIne.  I know he’s an arrogant sort, but that’s just plain idiocy.”
       We chatted some more, and I told him I needed to continue on my way.  I was going to see Hoskins and Morgan, and ride around some.  “Be careful,” he warned.  “I don’t think they’d venture too far from town, but yuh never know.”
       The day was long and uneventful, but I came away with an abundance of information.  It wasn’t part of my jurisdiction, but I decided to write it all down and turn it over to Charlie.  I wasn’t passing it off, but it was his jurisdiction and therefore his responsibility.  After leaving Hawk at the livery, I remembered Giles advice and walked down the street to my room.  There was a deputy standing against the wall of the Bently Hardware, and when I passed it I thought I saw movement in the alley.
       Then it happened…

 

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Those who live in comfort, who don’t know the bite of fear and the song of the bullet, don’t understand that kill or be killed is the reality of the battlefield.”

                         –Colonel Robert W. Black

       “They were stoned, they were sawed in two, they died by the sword, they wandered about in sheepskins, in goatskins, destitute, afflicted, and mistreated.  The world was not worthy of them…”

                         –Hebrews 11:37-38a (HCSB)

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MEMORIAL DAY!  A day we should all take time to remember, to recall the debt that is owed to this country.  Many reading this lost loved ones and friends in the wars of this country.  I had several family members who served in Vietnam; one, my uncle died there.  I served during that time, but thank the Lord I was stateside during the war.  I had a cousin die on the shores of Normandy in 1944, another uncle was severely traumatized by what he saw in the Pacific, so severely that he was hospitalized for many years.

       Many Americans will enjoy the day with family and friends with grilling or a barbeque, and that’s all right.  It is for those little freedoms that we have that we remember those on Memorial Day.  Your celebration is part of that memorial for without the sacrifices of those we wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves.

       Sacrifice–that is a real part of Memorial Day.  

                         ALL GAVE SOME

                         SOME GAVE ALL!

This is a day we focus on those who gave their all, but it is not wrong to remember those who gave some.  It might be those with PTSD, or wounds (emotional, mental, and physical), those who gave of their time, their dreams, their hopes.  Very few were combat soldiers compared to the many who served.  Perhaps one of the most poignant statements was made by E. B. Sledge, “If the country is good enough to live in, it’s good enough to fight for.  With privilege goes responsibility.” (With the Old Breed)  When I look at society today, and then at the words of Sledge all I can do is shake my head.  In fact, the other day I thought I felt the tremor of an earthquake, but it was the sound of those who gave all, those who served, rolling over in their graves.

       Since I was of the Vietnam era, let me share with you something that was sent to me by a veteran regarding the Vietnam Wall.

               There are 58,267 names on the wall.

               39,996 were just 22 or younger.

               8,282 were 19.  33,103 were 18.

               12 were 17 years old.

               5 soldiers were 16.

               There are 3 sets of fathers and sons on the wall.

               31 sets of parents who lost 2 of their sons.

               997 were killed their first day.

               1,448 were killed on their last day.

               8 women were on the wall, nurses.

               244 soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor during the war and 153 of them are on the wall.

MEMORIAL DAY!  A time to remember, a time to honor, a time to evaluate and take inventory.  In your time of recalling those who gave their all, do not forget the greatest memorial of all–the CROSS.  It was on that old cross where Jesus gave His all for humanity, for you and me.  Look at the graves of those who died, and see that there is a cross above it–in remembrance of the One who gave His all for us, His sacrifice was final, and the wonder of wonders, the greatness of it all, He did not remain in the tomb, for He rose and now is interceding for us at the throne of the Father.

       MEMORIAL DAY!  Remember…!

 

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Ahhhh,’ I sighed as I tasted the coffee. ‘Excuse my manners, but that tastes so good.'”

                    –D.C. Adkisson  (Stiles of Laredo)
 
Mornin’ to yuh, Pard.  Get yur ownself in here, the coffee’s hot, and I’ve made it extry specially strong for what I’m a-gonna share with yuh.  Pard, the things I see, an’ read make me wonder just when the good Lord is gonna say, “enough is enough!”  For the folks out there who believe all this garbage, this foolishness, it’s a good thing that the Lord is good.
       Here’s what I’m a-talkin’ about.  Some high falutin’ therapist has done declared that wokeness is “the only real spiritual path of meaning available to white folks.”  My mercy, not only to white folks, but to all folks, the Lord Jesus is the only path.  He done declared, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  For sure, there are plenty of false prophets out there searchin’ for souls to destroy.
       See, why I made the coffee so strong?  Things like that there is enough to get the gizzard all riled.  But, Pard, there’s more I read.  I know yur a well-educated feller, but did yuh ever read ’bout “Big Brother”?  He’s a watchin’ yuh.  The worst part about it is that most folks don’t care.  They just keep goin’ on their merry ol’ way as long as they are well entertained and don’t lose any of their conveniences.   Yep, keep the masses distracted (pandemics) keep them entertained with sports, movies, singers and the like, and yuh can add to that the social media and now the politikin’ that’s bein’ done; yuh keep them distracted with all sorts of things and yuh can easily control them.
       Yep, Pard, an’ yuh know that the most of them are a-fallin’ for it lock, stock, and barrel.  They keep on believin’ the lies they will soon be over that barrel an’ at the mercy of those who control.  There is so much hee-hawin’ out there, mostly to keep yuh confused an’ away from the truth of Christ.  Believe the lie now, and, Pard, it’ll be easy for them to believe any kind of lie in the future.
       Brother, if’n things keep goin’ in this here direction, I might have to make the coffee even stronger.  Keep goin’ forward, Pard.  Strong coffee, yur gun cleaned an’ primed, an’ the words of the Bible in yur heart an’ we’ll make it.  Uh, that is unless yuh forget to check yur cinch.
        Vaya con Dios.